Cemetery Dance

He paused again, letting a silence build. "I'm going to ask you all again to close your eyes and make a sustained effort to put yourselves into the body of this helpless lamb."

More silence.

"The shiny thing is pressing against your throat. There is a sudden movement, a horrifying flash of pain — pain that you never even knew existed in the world. Your breath is suddenly choked off by a flood of hot blood. Your small, gentle mind ca

"And then — mercifully — it is over."

He stopped. The crowd was deathly silent. Even D'Agosta felt a lump in his throat. It was maudlin, it was mawkish, but damn if it wasn't affecting.

Without speaking — adding no commentary of his own to Esteban's speech, no call to action — Rich Plock stepped down and began walking across the field with that same determined walk. The crowd hesitated, watching Plock walk away. Esteban himself seemed taken by surprise, not quite sure what Plock was doing.

Then the crowd began to move, following Plock. The short man cut across the field and reached the road to the Ville. He turned and headed down it, accelerating his determined pace.

"Uh — oh," said D'Agosta.

"To the Ville!" cried a voice in the now surging crowd.

"To the Ville! To the Ville!" came the response, already louder, more urgent.

The murmuring in the crowd became a rumble that became a roar. "To the Ville! Confront the killers!"

D'Agosta suddenly looked about. The cops were still half asleep. Nobody expected this. In a split second, it seemed, the crowd had become electrified and was in determined motion. Small or not, this group meant business.

"To the Ville!"

"Evict the Ville!"

"Avenge Smithback!"

D'Agosta unholstered his radio, tuned it. "This is Lieutenant D'Agosta. Wake up, people, get your asses in gear! The protest is not authorized to approach the Ville."

But the crowd continued to move — like the tide, not quickly, but inexorably — down the road. And now Esteban, a look of alarm on his face, belatedly joined the moving crowd, pushing his way through, trying to get to the front.

"Confront the murderers!"

"If they reach the Ville," D'Agosta shouted into the radio, "the shit's really going to hit the fan. There'll be violence!"

There was a burst of talk on the radio as the diminished knot of police belatedly tried to equip their riot gear, to move into position and stop the crowd. D'Agosta could see that they were too few and too late — they had been caught completely off guard. A hundred or a hundred thousand, it didn't matter — he could see blood in these people's eyes. Esteban's speech had roused them in a way nothing else could have. The group was streaming past the baseball diamonds onto the Ville road, moving faster now, blocking any possibility of police cruisers getting ahead of the march.

"Vincent, follow me." Pendergast set off at a swift pace, cutting across the baseball diamonds toward the trees. D'Agosta immediately saw his plan — to take a shortcut through the woods and get ahead of the mob moving down the road.

"Pity that someone took down the gate to the Ville… eh, Vincent?"

"Don't give me shit, Pendergast — not now." D'Agosta could hear, at some distance, the chanting of the group, the shouting and yelling as they marched down the road.

Within moments they emerged onto the road a little ahead of the crowd. The chain — link fence was to their left, the gate still down. The crowd was moving at a rapid clip, the front ranks almost jogging, Plock leading the way. Esteban was nowhere to be seen. The crowd control cops had fallen far behind and there was no way to get ahead of the mob in a squad car. The press, on the other hand, were keeping up nicely, half a dozen ru

"Looks like it's up to us," D'Agosta said. He took a deep breath, then stepped into the road and pulled out his shield, Pendergast beside him.

He turned to face the crowd, led by Plock. It was u

The crowd kept coming. "To the Ville!"

"Mr. Plock, don't do this! It's illegal and, believe me, you will be arrested!"

"Evict them!"

"Get the hell out of the way!"

"Step past me and you're under arrest!" He grabbed Plock and, though the man put up no resistance, the gesture was hopeless. The rest came like the tide, sweeping toward him, and he couldn't arrest a hundred people single — handedly.

"Stand your ground," Pendergast said beside him.

D'Agosta gritted his teeth.

As if by magic, Esteban appeared beside them. "My friends!" he cried, stepping out to face the approaching crowd. "My fellow sympathizers!"

At this, the advancing front faltered, slowed.

"To the Ville!"

In a surprise move, Esteban turned and embraced Plock, then turned to face the crowd again, holding up his hands. "No!My friends, your bravery touches me deeply — deeply! But I beg you: do not proceed! " He suddenly dropped his voice, speaking privately to Plock. "Rich, I need your help. This is premature — you know it is."

Plock looked at Esteban, frowning. Seeing this apparent disagreement between the leaders, the front line of marchers began to falter.

"Thank you for your big hearts!" Esteban cried out again to the crowd. "Thank you! But please — listen to me. There is a time and place for everything. Rich and I agree: now isnot the time and place to confront the Ville! Do you understand? We've made our point, we've demonstrated our resolve. We've shown the public face of our just anger! We've shamed the bureaucrats and put the politicians on notice! We've done what we came to do! But no violence. Please,no violence! "

Plock remained silent, his face darkening.

"We came to stop the killings, not to talk!" shouted a voice.

"And we are going to stop these killings!" Esteban said. "I ask you, what will confrontation accomplish? Don't kid yourselves, those people will meet us with violent resistance. They might be armed. Are you prepared? There are so few of us! My friends, the time is soon coming when these animal torturers will be evicted, these murderers of lambs and calves — not to mention journalists — will be scattered to the four winds! But not now — not yet!"

He paused. The sudden, listening silence was remarkable.

"My fellow creatures," Esteban continued, "you have demonstrated the courage of your convictions. Now we will turn around and march back to our gathering point. There we will talk, we will make speeches, and we will show the entire city what is happening here! We will bring justice — even to those who show none themselves!"

The crowd seemed to be waiting for Plock to affirm Esteban. At long last, Plock raised his hands in a slow, almost unwilling gesture. "Our point is made!" he said. "Let us go back — for now!"